Semper Ubi Sub Ubi
by Michmak
Summary: Nick moves out of his house, and Sara finds a magazine that sparks a bet.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Semper Ubi Sub-Ubi  
  
Authors: Michmak and Zheidi  
  
Rating: PG13 for the subject matter and some language.  
  
Summary: Nick moves out of his house, and Sara finds a magazine that sparks a bet.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Nick pulled tape over the last box and marked it "Bedroom" in blue Sharpie marker.  
  
"Got it all?" Warrick asked from the hallway.  
  
"Yup," the dark haired man affirmed. "That's it."  
  
Warrick nodded and turned to the guys behind him. "The moving van here yet?"  
  
Grissom was busy trying to put Nick's books into boxes and missed the conversation completely.  
  
"Not yet," Greg answered. "Still got about fifteen minutes before they're due."  
  
Nick didn't care when the movers got there, as long as they showed up. He needed to get out of his house.  
  
"Hey-Grissom?" Nick walked into the living room and found his boss had only packed three books and was now busy speed-reading a fourth. "Grissom?" No response. Nick leaned down and brought his mouth very close to Grissom's ear. "Gil Grissom!"  
  
Grissom jumped and turned to Nick with a frown. "What?"  
  
Nick shook his head with a laugh. "You are dead to the world when you're reading, and I'm glad that you're enjoying my books, but do you think you could get that done before the movers get here, or do you want me to take over?"  
  
Grissom looked down at the book, and actually blushed a little to his credit. "Sorry. I'll take care of this stuff here." He went back to packing and was just securing the tape when Catherine and Sara walked in with breakfast.  
  
"Here we go," Catherine said, setting bags of take-out on the counter.  
  
"Thanks," Nick told them, standing to investigate what they brought.  
  
Sara smiled then joined Grissom by the bookcase.  
  
"Nicholas Kyle Stokes, what is this?" she practically shouted.  
  
Nick looked up to what she was holding, then turned to Grissom for help. Grissom just stared in wonder at the article, then turned to Nick with a look that clearly said, 'You're on your own this time, pal.'  
  
Warrick had pretty much the same expression.  
  
Greg, who had managed to wander in from the bathroom, missed the entire exchange and smiled happily.  
  
"Ooh.November edition of Victoria's Secret. I love that one-it's the one with the girl in the Santa negligee and the red and white striped thigh highs. . ." He sighed happily, "Her legs look just like candy canes."  
  
Sara rolled her eyes, "Just what every girl wants."  
  
Catherine strolled over to Sara and took the catalog from her hands, smiling when she found the picture. "Well, you know what they say. Candy is dandy - but if you lick 'er, it's quicker."  
  
Nick felt his ears turn a deep red. Warrick smirked at Catherine. Grissom just cocked an eyebrow.  
  
Greg shot Nick a commiserating look, "Hey guys, come on! It's not like you found a stash of Hustler or something like that!"  
  
"That would be your apartment, Greg," Sara offered. "Besides which, Victoria's Secret? This stuff might be nice to look at, but it's damned uncomfortable. Especially the shit with the wires."  
  
Nick stalked over to Catherine and grabbed the magazine from her hands, rolling it up and shoving it roughly into the back pocket of his jeans. "It's not mine."  
  
"Sure," Catherine smirked and pulled it back out of his jeans, turning away when he grabbed for it. "If it's not yours, who does it belong to?"  
  
"It's my sisters'. I told you she was up a week ago, helping me sort through my crap. She must have forgotten this here when she left."  
  
"Your sister travels with a Victoria's Secret catalog?" Sara was disbelieving, "What - is it like American Express now? Victoria's Secret: Don't leave home without it!"  
  
Nick laughed, despite the fact that he wanted to throttle her. "Okay, fine. Think what you want. At least it's not a Playboy."  
  
"Nothing wrong with Playboy," Warrick inserted drolly. "It's an honest magazine. It doesn't try to hide the fact that it's made specifically for men to get their rocks off; unlike some other magazines out there that 'pretend' to be for women."  
  
Greg grinned, "Yeah, but it's way more acceptable for men to read Victoria's Secret in public places. Trust me on this."  
  
Catherine started laughing. "Boys and their toys - or in this case, veiled smut. Sara's right though - the lingerie is nice to look at; but a bitch to wear." She flipped to another page, pointing out a red velvet bustier / corset with matching red velvet thong. "I had to wear stuff like this when I danced - and the places thongs can go -" she winced with great exaggeration and winked at Warrick, who's eyes had strayed to her butt when she mentioned thongs, "well, I'll leave the rest to your imagination."  
  
"If women's underwear is as uncomfortable as you say, why wear it?"  
  
"What are you suggesting, Greg? We go commando?" Sara responded cheekily, enjoying the slight googly-eyed choke Greg made as her words penetrated his brain. "We wear it because of societal demands."  
  
"Bullshit!" Nick objected, "Women wear stuff like this to drive men crazy."  
  
"Not a long drive, actually," Sara retorted, "and that's not true. Women are inunduated with advertising, pressure from men, TV, magazines - you name it - to look sexy, act sexy, be sexy! It's almost ingrained. It's not women that design this crap, I can tell you this. If woman designed underwear, there would be no wires, no itchy lace, and the elastic would be elastic and not rubberized tooth floss."  
  
Catherine laughed to herself, then put the catalogue in her purse. "If it really is your sisters, "I'm sure she won't mind if I keep it. Y'know. . . seeing as how you won't be needing it."  
  
Nick gave a rueful smile and was glad when the moving van arrived.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Nick felt a great sense of relief when the moving van finally pulled away. The guys knew what they were doing well enough to pack Nick's bed and bedding last so he could get that set up straight away. A few sets of clothes were packed in a suitcase that he unpacked quickly, and the rest was incidentals that his friends helped him unpack rather quickly, after they took Grissom off of book duty, that is.  
  
"I'm beat," Greg finally admitted as he leaned a painting against the living room wall.  
  
Sara sank into Nick's sofa. "Me too."  
  
Grissom and Catherine agreed that they, too, could use a break.  
  
"Nick!" Grissom called. "Warrick? Where are you guys?"  
  
Nick walked out of his bedroom, and Warrick came in from the kitchen.  
  
"What's up, Griss?" the tall man asked.  
  
"Guys-we need a break," Catherine said. "Let's go get some food."  
  
"Hey-my treat," Nick offered. "Really, guys I appreciate this so much!"  
  
Greg was the first to shake off the fatigue at the mention of free food. "Hey, I'm ready-let's get going!" He said as he jumped up from the leathery confines of the sofa.  
  
The rest soon followed suit and hopped into two Tahoes, heading for their favorite sport's bar, 'The Goalie Box' on State Street. They settled back against their favorite corner booth, Sara in the corner, Grissom close to her, Catherine and Warrick pressed against each other, and Greg and Nick pulled up chairs, their backs to the television over the bar.  
  
That was how they were caught off guard by Sara's now satiated stomach complaining about the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show that would be on CBS in a few weeks.  
  
"See? This is what's wrong with the world," she mumbled. "This is why Ashleigh James ended up dead. Because guys just have to look at *that* all day long."  
  
"Supply and demand, Sara," Warrick said a little cynically. "There are guys who want that, so that's what advertisers use to sell it."  
  
Grissom smiled at Warrick's reasoning. "Supply and demand indeed," he said, more to himself than to the rest of the table. "But I wonder what the percentile is of men who prefer that underwear on women, and the percentage of women who are willing to wear it in order to entice those men."  
  
"So you're saying you're not that kind of guy," Catherine accused.  
  
"I think that if it's comfortable, you wear it. If it's not, don't wear it."  
  
"I'm just saying that I like a little. . . frosting. . . on my cake," Greg said. "Just a little somethin' somethin' to put me in the mood."  
  
Sara had to scoff at that. "But, on the other end of the scale, if you're wearing stuff like that, you don't feel sexy at all. You feel itchy and pushed up, just. . . uncomfortable."  
  
"How bad could they be?" Nick wondered aloud. "How bad? It's just underwear."  
  
"I'd like to see you try and wear them," Catherine said. "You wouldn't last five minutes."  
  
"Oh-I would last all night, Cath."  
  
Catherine looked him up and down. "All night? Well-that is something."  
  
Sara laughed around a piece of pizza. Grissom smiled smugly. Warrick laced his hands behind his head. Nick gulped. There was something sinister brewing behind Catherine's steely blue eyes.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"So, let me get this straight," Nick said, "you and Sara against Greg and I - loser has to wear underwear of winnings team choice for three days?" The grin on his face was one of pure unadulterated enjoyment. "How will we know you and Sara are wearing what we want you to wear?"  
  
Catherine responded, "IF Sara and I lose, we'll show you the bra straps. But we're not going to lose."  
  
"You think you can out-drink Nick and I?" Greg chortled. "No way. This is gonna be so good."  
  
Sitting beside Catherine, Sara frowned slightly. "Cath - I don't remember volunteering to be on your team."  
  
Catherine just smiled, "Come on, Sara. It's not necessarily who drinks more, but who drinks the fastest. I recommend we do shots - first team to do 20 shots wins."  
  
"Piece of cake," Nick responded. "You two are toast."  
  
"I suggest we do Flaming Sambuca shooters. We'll get the waitress to have them ready. Grissom and Warrick judge. Twenty shots, each team."  
  
"Do we get to go through your underwear to choose what you'll be wearing?" Greg interrupted.  
  
"You are not going through my underwear Greg. You either Nick," Sara said firmly. "I don't want to do this."  
  
"Too bad," Catherine retorted. "You're in. We're not going to lose, Sara. Trust me on this. And when WE win, we'll just have to buy the boys their thongs for the week. Should be fun."  
  
Sara rolled her eyes at the older woman, "You are so on my shit-list if I have to wear lace thongs and push up bras for three days."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
The waitress was setting up the drinks. The strong smell of black licorice permeated the air around them. At the end of the table, Warrick was smirking. Greg and Nick were trash talking the girls, and Sara was nervous. Catherine leaned towards her and whispered, "Just drink what you can manage. It's Saturday night, no work tomorrow, it's okay if we get a little drunk. It's worth a killer hangover to get those two into something uncomfortable for three days."  
  
Sara sighed, "I'm not a big drinker, Cath."  
  
"Neither are they, Sara," Cath grinned. "They're just puppies. We've got this hands down."  
  
"You two ready?" Warrick asked, "Cause I'm ready to light these!"  
  
"We're ready. Just discussing strategy!" Catherine replied. "Listen boys, these are going to be on fire - so make sure you blow before you drink." She winked with great exaggeration at Greg, laughing slightly when the younger man flushed. "And if you feel the need to concede, we won't hold it against you - much!"  
  
"You are so going down, Cath!" Nick retorted.  
  
"You wish!" Catherine retorted. "Light 'em up, Warrick!" 


	2. PROPERLY FLOSSED

~*~*~*~ Part II ~*~*~*~  
  
"Jeez, Cath! Aren't you hungover?" Sara asked into her phone, trying to shove down her feeling of dizzying nausea at having to sit up and think so quickly after having drank so much the night before.  
  
"Oh - I'm used to the feeling. I know a great cure, I'll be over in a few minutes. Eddie has Lindsey for the rest of the afternoon, and we need to find the proper torture devices for our Nicky and his mascot."  
  
Sara laughed. "Sounds good. Come on over."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"Wal-Mart?" Sara asked as Catherine pulled into a parking space.  
  
"Girl, you don't even know the cheap-ass panties they have in here."  
  
Sara opened her door and stepped out gingerly. "No, thank God, I don't."  
  
Catherine smiled and led Sara back to the lingerie section. Sara immediately went to where the frilly underwear was hanging on tasteful display racks, organized according to size.  
  
"Sara, honey? What are you doing?"  
  
Sara looked up from the white lacy thong she was holding. "I'm. . ."  
  
"No. Over here."  
  
Sara's eyes grew big, then a slow smile spread across her face. In a forgotten corner there was a round three-tiered rack with bright purple, green, orange and pink blaring out through a mishmash of leopard print, black see-through and deep red.  
  
"Hookers don't even wear this stuff," Sara mumbled as she tried to separate a string bikini from a thong.  
  
"Yes they do. Why do you think they sell this stuff?" Catherine's eyes lit up as she spotted something that made her heart skip a beat. "We should have made the bet for five days instead of just three."  
  
Sara held up a vinyl green camisole and panty set. The underwear was in bikini style, tied at the sides with orange ribbons. The legs were barely stretchy enough for a child, let alone Greg, and the back of the cami was made out of stretchy nylon, a sure itch-inducer.  
  
"Greg. Day one," was all Sara said.  
  
Catherine smirked and held up a leopard-print thong. "Greg, day two."  
  
"Ooooohhhhhhh! Me like. And this," she held up a dark red velvet thong, "for Nick for day one."  
  
"Day two. This is day one." Catherine smirked as she held up what she had been hiding behind her back.  
  
The very brief black thong made Sara itch just looking at it. "What is that material?" she asked, reaching out a tentative hand to finger the thong.  
  
Catherine snorted, "I don't know, but it looks like a weird mix of pleather and polyester lace. Hot and itchy! I can just see Nick squirming now!"  
  
"And a matching stretchy camisole - too bad we couldn't get one of those feather boas and make him wear it, as well! I can see it now: Nicky - Queen of the Desert!" Sara started to giggle. "I've never had this much fun buying underwear before."  
  
"Yeah, too bad we couldn't have gotten Griss and Warrick involved."  
  
They both broke off into peals of laughter at the thought of Grissom in lingerie. Specifically silk panties with a bustier and fishnet stockings.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Nick felt like a very large cat had crawled into his mouth and died, after spitting up a couple of hairballs. Groaning, he tentatively slid to his feet and gingerly headed into the hallway. He felt like he was navigating the deck of a ship in the middle of a hurricane - all around him, the floor bucked and weaved, tilting this way and that. The stark white walls of his new house assaulted his eyes. He needed to shower. But first, he needed to find out who the hell was in his kitchen, cooking bacon and eggs. The heavy smell of the grease was making him nauseous.  
  
Stumbling into the living room, he smiled when he saw Greg flaked out on the sofa and briefly wondered if he himself looked that green. Flaming Sambucas - never again!  
  
Warrick was in the kitchen, and he looked up grinning when Nick wandered in. "Yo, bud. How you feeling?"  
  
"I'd be feeling a hell of a lot better if the smell of bacon wasn't permeating my house. Have mercy, Warrick!"  
  
Warrick grinned, "I thought you might be hungry - besides which, all the grease will help kill the hangover. You look like hell, man."  
  
"Feel like hell," Nick offered weakly. "So - what happened?"  
  
Warrick started laughing, "You and Greg got your asses kicked by Catherine and Sara, that's what happened, frat boy! Guess all those wild keg parties you told me about were figments of your imagination - you sure can't hold your drink, buddy."  
  
"How did we get back to my place?"  
  
"I drove. Grissom took the girls home. I tossed Greg on your sofa - didn't want him to be by himself in case he got sick - he was hammered man. I slept in your armchair."  
  
Nick grimaced, "How much did I have to drink?"  
  
"You managed about 10 shots. Greggo managed six. Catherine had you all beat, hands down. Christ, that woman can drink!" Warrick grinned, "She did fourteen shots, and she probably could have done more."  
  
"At least she's suffering, then!" Nick remarked.  
  
Warrick just laughed, "Cath? You think she's hungover? No way man - she has the best cure for hangovers known to man. I bet she's out with Sara right now, buying ladies underwear for you and Greg!"  
  
Greg had woken up and stumbled into the kitchen by this point, his expression bleak as he sank into an empty chair. "You think they'll really make us do it?" he mumbled miserably.  
  
"Would you have made them, if they lost?" Warrick responded. "You two - ya gotta learn to think before accepting any of Catherine's challenges - she's a lady who doesn't make a bet unless she's pretty confident she's gonna win."  
  
Greg sighed. "Shit. Sara's gonna have a field day with this."  
  
Nick grinned weakly, "No shit," he replied, before brightening noticeably, "but really - how bad can it be? It's only for three days - and it's just underwear."  
  
"Famous last words, man," Warrick smiled, as he slid the greasy breakfast onto three separate plates, "Famous last words."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"You have got to be shitting me!" Nick growled, gingerly looking inside the plastic bag Sara had tossed at him upon entering the break room.  
  
She just grinned at him, brown eyes snapping, "Do I look like I'm kidding? And this is only day one!"  
  
Grissom, who had been sitting at the table doing the crossword puzzle tried to hide his amusement when Nick pulled out a skimpy pair of black thongs with a matching camisole. "Whoa - I have to wear this, too?"  
  
"Absolutely. It's part of a matching set. Just be thankful that it's more like an undershirt than a bra - at least you won't have to put up with wires, and you can still wear those tight t-shirts you like so much without making anyone wonder about the excessive material underneath." Catherine's voice was cheerful as she walked into the break room, a dejected Greg in tow.  
  
"At least your underwear actually HAS sides," Greg offered, in way of a greeting. "The girls got me vinyl tie-ones."  
  
From the small two-seater, Warrick started laughing. "That's gonna be hot, man. You're gonna sweat your balls off!"  
  
Nick scowled balefully at Warrick before turning to look at Catherine. She was having entirely too much fun. Sighing in exasperation, he rose to his feet and managed to grin at the women. "You two are evil."  
  
"Damn straight," Catherine replied. "Now - go and change before shift actually starts."  
  
"I cut the tags off for you already," Sara grinned, "so quit wasting time!"  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"Hey - yours cover your ass!" Nick protested, eyeing Greg's bikini's.  
  
Greg just snorted. "Listen, they're vinyl, they tie up the sides with orange strings, and they have this little number to go with them." Greg held up the bustier. "It has titcompartments!"  
  
Nick held up his own camisole that tied up the front and scowled. "Grissom?" He turned to his boss who was studying a spider under the bench.  
  
"Don't look at me, Nick. I'd be in big trouble if I commented on a subordinate's underwear or betting habits. As long as it doesn't interfere with your job, I can't say anything. I will, however, give you two pieces of free advice." Grissom stood and went to the door. "Number one, think long and hard about how you will never let something like this happen to you again, and two, if you are going to change, I suggest doing it quickly. Sara has an insatiably curious nature that may direct her in here to watch."  
  
Greg looked at Nick after Grissom left the room. "We don't have to do this."  
  
"Greg, Catherine is not above tying us down and forcing these things on us."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Nick found a new routine to his life. Take two steps, stop, try and get this thing out of his butt, take two more steps, adjust, three steps-whoa-a record!  
  
"Nick!" Catherine sidled up to him, forcing him to try and walk like a man. He wasn't prepared to feel her hand on his ass, squeezing gently.  
  
"What the hell. . ."  
  
She winked. "Just making sure you're properly flossed."  
  
With a flip of her hair, she was gone, leaving Nick to face a smirking Warrick from the layout room.  
  
"Why didn't you-"  
  
Warrick held up his hands. "I tried to, bro. I tried to tell you! You weren't listening. That Texas-sized macho man in your - uh - pants wouldn't let you stop. Now you have to suffer the consequences."  
  
"You're just whipped by Catherine."  
  
"At least she doesn't make me wear her underwear," with that, Warrick turned back to the evidence he had been looking at, leaving Nick to his new walk.  
  
Four steps. . . doing better.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"Hi, Greg! How are you doing?"  
  
Greg looked up from his microscope, wondering why he had even bothered putting on the offensive green garb Sara had brought him. It felt like he had nothing on at all! The underwear stopped just above the slight curve of his butt, the front didn't even pretend to hide his pubic hair and barely kept him in place. The only things he felt was the rubber elastic-how had Sara put it? Rubberized dental floss? That was exactly how it felt-and the hideous orange ties at his sides, digging into him.  
  
The ties hit him where the leg holes of his usual briefs were. That was how low these things were.  
  
How did women function in them?  
  
"I'm great, Sara. Thanks for asking."  
  
Sara walked behind him, noting how his baggy pants pulled away from the small of his back, revealing a nice look at his butt cleavage, and below that, very, very far below that, a line of the ugliest lime green she had ever laid eyes on.  
  
"Pull up your pants, Greggy-poo. You have butt cleavage showing."  
  
Greg scowled as he reached behind with one hand and pulled his pants up, feeling the itchy stitches in his jeans snaking against the soft, tender flesh of his derrière.  
  
"Thanks for being so observant."  
  
"That's what friends are for. How's the bustier feeling?"  
  
Greg groaned inwardly. The tight green vinyl gave him different sensations on all sides. The length cut him just below his rib cage, making him feel as though he were as naked as Brittany Spears, the shoulder straps dug in any time he tried to pull it down, and the titcompartments, as he called them, were tight against his breasts, the vinyl made beads of sweat trickle down his chest, and the nylon on his back seemed to be covered with itching powder.  
  
"It's kind of nice, actually. Thinking about wearing it every day."  
  
With that, he went back to his slides.  
  
Sara smiled with glee, and left him alone.  
  
Wait until he saw the thong and teddy for tomorrow.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"Does everyone know about this?" Nick asked in the Tahoe.  
  
Grissom had assigned the girls on one case and decided to take the boys with him on the other. He felt it was safer to keep everyone separated.  
  
"Do you really think that Cath could keep it a secret?" Warrick asked.  
  
Grissom smirked into the rearview at Warrick, catching the younger man's eye as he did so. Nick was just chagrined at their mutual delight over his torturous embarrassment.  
  
"Watch out, Warrick. She'll probably want you in these next."  
  
Grissom couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips. He tried to cover it as a cough, but it was a pathetic attempt.  
  
"Oh look. Here we are. Nicky, do you need any help?"  
  
Nick gave a livid glare in Grissom's direction, than hopped out of the Tahoe, trying to ignore the tug of the thin piece of elastic in his crack.  
  
"Properly flossed my ass," he mumbled balefully under his breath, then cursed again when he realized that that's *exactly* what he was.  
  
"What was that? Warrick asked beside him.  
  
"Nothing. Just stay the hell away from me."  
  
He could feel them laughing at him. They may be silent, but he could feel their laughs on the back of his red-hot neck as he swished his butt, still trying to rid it of the Lone String.  
  
"Hey, Nick!" Grissom called.  
  
"What?"  
  
"If you fart, it'll be 'Air on the G-String!'"  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Working a crime scene had never been more uncomfortable. Grissom had assigned Nick to take the photos, and every time he squatted the damn thong gave him a wedgie. Warrick, who was nothing if not observant, went to great pains to point out every single piece of fluff - exhorting Nick to 'bend down and get close-ups.'  
  
Nick didn't think it was that funny. A couple of the police officers still on the scene smirked at him when he walked by, his stride much shorter than normal. He had discovered that the smaller the steps he took, the less 'ride' in the underwear.  
  
"Hey, Wong Foo - come here for a minute!" Even Brass was getting in on the action.  
  
Nick just scowled at him, "Funny Brass. What do you want?"  
  
"I was just wondering if you wanted some black licorice," Brass replied, before he joined the other men in peels of laughter.  
  
"Ha ha. Funny."  
  
Brass sniggered, "I thought so. Should I put some ABBA on for you? Give you some music to work by?"  
  
"Hardy hardy har," Nick replied, but he had to smile. He knew he would have been mercilessly teasing the girls if their position had been reversed. "Listen, next time I'm possessed to make a bet against Catherine, somebody stop me - okay?"  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
He couldn't sit. He couldn't stand. The vinyl was driving him ape-shit. He had a million tests to run, and he was so busy trying to concentrate on not cutting the circulation off to his ho-hah, he was falling behind.  
  
"Christ, these things are uncomfortable!" he muttered under his breath, as he once again raised a hand to the back of his seat and tried to adjust the underwear. It didn't cover his butt in any sense of the word, riding to either one cheek or the other. He was sure he had heat rash. Swearing under his breath, he gingerly propped his butt against a stool. The muscles in his buttocks were sore from the incessant clenching. Greg was afraid if he relaxed too much, the vinyl would slide up and he would have to have it removed professionally.  
  
Archie walked into the lab, "Greg, man - how's it hanging/"  
  
"It's not!" Greg muttered darkly, shifting to scowl at his amused friend, "As I'm sure you've already heard by now!"  
  
Archie just grinned, "So - it's true then? You're wearing women's underwear?"  
  
Greg just scowled, "I wouldn't laugh. I'm a man on the edge!"  
  
"Of his seat," Archie teased.  
  
Greg grunted, "You have anything useful to say, or did you just come to the lab to poke the monkey with a stick?"  
  
"Actually, I needed your advice on something," Archie responded.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Greg smiled, "Well - okay then. What can I do for you?"  
  
Archie smiled and whipped out a Victoria's Secret catalog, "I'm thinking of buying my girlfriend some lingerie for Christmas - what do you recommend?"  
  
TBC  
  
_________________________________________  
  
AN, Zheidi: "Air on the G-String" was written by JS Bach, who is now presumably rolling around in his grave. Any offence given to either him or any of his family members is purely his own damn fault for having named a song after ladies underwear. Thank you.  
  
Also, anyone interested in seeing 'Nicky, Queen of the Desert' and 'Grissom, the Sweet Transvestite' may do so by either e-mailing Zheidi at zambonigirl@cox.net. I warn you, it's not for the faint-at-heart, and, yes, I love Grissom and Nick, but you have to have fun in your life!  
  
Michmak: It is so much fine writing a story with no plot - none! Well, I shouldn't say that - the sole purpose of this story is to get Nick and Greg into women's underwear - Nick in a thong.yummy! Now, we need a Greg picture - I'm thinking something lacy, racy and push-up! As far as the Grissom and Nick pictures - totally worth having to bleach your eyeballs after you're done viewing them. Nick looks good in eyeshadow.  
  
As always - reviews are more than welcome - in fact, they make our day! 


	3. GOT MILK?

~*~*~*~ Part III ~*~*~*~  
  
All Nick knew was that he wanted to get home FAST. Once inside the confines of his home, he stripped from the waist down, ridding himself of the offensive underwear and breathing his first full breath of the night.  
  
"Oh, thank GOD!" he moaned, reveling in his newfound freedom. The air was blessedly cool. "I bet I've got rope burn," he muttered. Now that he no longer had to pretend the thongs weren't hindering him all that much, he allowed himself to limp down the hallway towards his bedroom. He didn't think his ass would ever feel the same again. Adjusting the mirrors on his dresser, he turned and looked over his shoulder, and sighed when he saw the marks left from the itchy material and tight elastic. "I hope those marks aren't permanent."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Greg was just as elated upon entering his own home. He was sure that he had lost at least ten pounds of sweat that night in his nether region alone. He stripped quicker than Nick, removing every item of clothing despite the fact that his blinds were all wide open. If someone wanted to see him naked so badly they were looking in his windows, more power to them - right now, he could care less. He had to get out of the vinyl. He itched everywhere. The damn bustier had been so tight; he could see the outline of ever stitch clearly outlined on his chest - down to and including the design on the itchy polyester lace inserts. Scratching his chest wildly, he streaked down the hallway cursing Nick and his bright ideas, and making a mental note to never get sucked into betting against Catherine on anything ever again. He barely stopped long enough to grab a towel before his mad dash led him to the bathroom, where he jumped into the most tepid shower of his life.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"Did you see how Nick was walking?" Sara asked over breakfast.  
  
"You guys are way too cruel," Warrick said with a laugh. "I don't believe they went through with it."  
  
"Believe it, War," Catherine smirked. "They had no choice."  
  
Brass snorted. "They're a lot more tolerant than I would be."  
  
Grissom decided to abstain from the conversation thus far. Discussing his co-worker's underwear or lack thereof was not exactly his choice of breakfast conversation.  
  
"Nice to know we actually got some work done," he said finally.  
  
Sara rolled her eyes. "Thanks for ruining my fun, Bugman."  
  
"I just have one question," Brass said around a mouthful of eggs. "What do you have in store for them tomorrow?"  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Greg stared at the assortment awaiting him in his locker.  
  
Why had he ever thought that a bustier was sexy? It pinched and pulled in all the wrong places when he put it on, and giving the relative anatomy of men and women, he knew that something like this had to be equally as uncomfortable for a woman, but it just never registered. It still didn't. Not yet. But, he was beginning to see the light.  
  
His eyes widened as he pulled the thong on. Leopard print, like the top.  
  
"What's black and white and red all over?" Warrick asked as he and Nick walked in to find Greg getting his kit on.  
  
"Don't mess with me," Greg growled, yanking his jeans on with unusual fury.  
  
"You have *got* to be shitting me!" Nick practically yelped as he pulled his fatigues out of his locker.  
  
Warrick laughed. "Velvet. Very nice. I love the color."  
  
"Man - this is a *bra*!"  
  
"Wow, and I thought it had been ages since you'd seen one. Nice to know you still recognize one."  
  
Nick scowled at Warrick. "Can I have some privacy here?"  
  
"Hey - knock yourself out."  
  
Warrick left the locker room with Greg in tow, leaving Nicky to pull on his second thong ever.  
  
*Damn, I'm chafed!*He thought to himself. He wondered if lotion would help.  
  
"Nick! Get a move on!" Catherine called from the doorway. "You ready?"  
  
Nick groaned and pulled his jeans on with a force equal to Greg's. "Cath, go away! I'm serious!"  
  
She walked in and started laughing at the sight of Nick in a bra and his jeans.  
  
"There are some guys - and a few girls - on The Strip who would pay big money to see this."  
  
If looks could kill, Grissom would be investigating the execution of Catherine Willows. Nick hastily jerked his shirt over his head and secured his "FORENSICS" vest over his chest to hide the small lumps the unfilled cups of the padded push-up bra created.  
  
"I *hate* you, Catherine. I loathe you to the very core of your being."  
  
She laughed easily. "If the situation was reversed, you know that you would have put me in something similar. How's the ass?"  
  
"How do you think?" Nick gritted back, but he grinned when Catherine started laughing. "I feel like someone's trying to slice me in half with fishing line."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"Greggo!" Sara's voice was lilting, and Greg winced when he saw her standing by the lab door, waiting for him. "Looking good!"  
  
"Shut up, Sara, I'm not in the mood," Greg responded. He'd only had the thong on for five minutes, and already he was in agony. Thongs were not designed for men - for one thing, there was no support. For another, the thin strip attached to the skimpy triangle of material at the front of the thong traveled right up the middle. If he wore these like he wore normal underwear, he would bisect his nuts. After some serious adjusting, Greg had reluctantly just pushed everything to the side, gritted his teeth against the discomfort, and slowly started down the hallway. Thank God he was wearing baggy jeans.  
  
Sara watched the younger man's deliberate movements as he inched down the hallway, and felt a brief flash of sympathy, before the humor of it got the better of her.  
  
"Now, Greggo, is that any way to talk to me?" she teased, "Especially when I've brought you something?"  
  
"If it's made out of lace, vinyl or nylon - forget it. Catherine already left me something in the locker room."  
  
"Yeah - I know - Leopard print," Sara responded cheerfully, "We thought it would bring out the beast in you!" She laughed at Greg's unamused snort, and followed him slowly into the lab. "Actually, I thought you might have heat rash from the vinyl yesterday, so I brought you some Gold Bond anti- itch powder with menthol."  
  
"You're all heart, Sara!" Greg muttered, gingerly sliding his butt up onto the lab stool. "What am I supposed to do with this?"  
  
"It'll help with the burn," Sara explained, grinning even wider when Greg blushed a furious red. "I don't think I need to elucidate." She patted him in mock sympathy on the shoulder, "Just think - only one more day after today, and you'll never have to wear women's underwear again!"  
  
"Thank God!" Greg muttered, as he read the powder bottle. "Will this really work?"  
  
Sara shrugged, "Cath said baby powder would help - she should know."  
  
"You going to let Nick in on this?"  
  
"Nope," Sara responded, "He's the one that started the whole ridiculous bet. I think he needs to learn a lesson."  
  
Greg grinned - an honest grin - a happy, evil grin - "Good. That red velvet thong you guys left for him is going to drive him batty. I want him to suffer!"  
  
Sara patted him on the shoulder again, before quickly looking at her watch. "Oh, don't worry - he's suffering! I gotta go - the break room is calling me. Catch you later, Tarzan!"  
  
Greg watched her retreating back, torn between scowling at her and laughing. Shaking his head and sighing, he looked at the Gold Bond again, quickly reading the back. He hoped it worked.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Everyone was in the break room when Grissom walked in. Quickly scanning his team, he noticed the grins Sara, Catherine and Warrick were all sporting, and turned to face the source of their amusement. Nick was leaning uncomfortably against the counter, shoulders hunched inward, tight lines bracketing his mouth and a thin sheen a sweat beading his forehead.  
  
Grissom half-smiled, "You okay, Nicky? You look like hell."  
  
"Fine Griss," the younger man muttered.  
  
"Why are you all hunched over like that? Chest hurt?"  
  
"The girls have me in a bra today. When I straighten up, the straps dig into my shoulders." Nick stated this calmly, ignoring the amused laughter of the other three team members.  
  
"That explains the protective vest," Grissom remarked dryly, even as his eyes flashed their amusement. "You going to be able to work alright?"  
  
"Yep," Nick responded gamely, "I'll be just fine."  
  
"Good - you and Sara are together - home invasion. Brass is waiting for you." He handed Nick the slip of paper and shook his head as he watched the younger man push off from the counter, wincing as he did so and surreptitiously trying to shift his thong around. "Only one more day to go, Nicky."  
  
Nick grimaced at him, "That's what I keep telling myself." Turning to Sara, he grinned ruefully, "You ready?"  
  
"Race you to the Tahoe, Hop-a-long!" she responded.  
  
Nick just groaned, "Funny, Sidle."  
  
Grissom smirked again and turned to Catherine and Warrick when he heard a howl of pain coming from the lab, quickly followed by a frantic Greg running down the hallway towards the locker room.  
  
Quirking his eyebrow at Catherine, he handed her the paper in his hand.  
  
"Here, Cath. The assignment's there. You and Warrick. I better go see what that was all about." Exiting the break room, he headed down the hallway, following the strong smell of menthol and the sound of Greg's muffled curses. The younger lab tech was standing half-naked in front of his locker, frantically trying to peel out of the leopard print bustier. At least Grissom assumed it was leopard print, as he had heard the girls laughing about it earlier. Right at this moment it was covered in powder, as was Greg. Menthol smelling powder.  
  
Grissom frowned as he quickly noted the hectic red flush on the skin of the younger man's face and neck. He assumed that the flush continued down his chest underneath all that white.  
  
"Greg? What's wrong?"  
  
"Damn that Sara! Damn her!" Greg had finally managed to pry the bustier off, and turned to face Grissom. The skin underneath the bustier was not as powder-covered as the rest of him, and Grissom gasped at the livid red rash that was forming quickly on his chest. His face was red and it looked like he was trying to not cry from pain.  
  
"What the hell happened?"  
  
Greg just shook his head, and grabbed a clean t-shirt from his locker, frantically rubbing it all over his chest, trying to wipe away the powder. His frenzied rubbing caused some of the blisters that had formed to break and bleed.  
  
"Greg, stop! Stop it!" Grissom quickly stepped forward, grabbing Greg's hands and holding them firmly. "Whatever you put on there is turning caustic! You're not rubbing the powder off - you're rubbing it in!"  
  
"It's burning! Jeez, stop it, Grissom!" Greg's brown eyes pleaded with him to stop the pain.  
  
Grissom looked frantically around the locker room, spying a towel and grabbing it. "Go jump in the shower and start rinsing it off - I'll try to find something to neutralize the burning. What is this shit?"  
  
"Gold-Bond Anti-Itch with Menthol. Sara told me it would help!"  
  
"Sara? Why would she tell you that?"  
  
"Because she's a mean, vindictive little bi-"  
  
"Greg!"  
  
Greg stopped short before completing his sentence. Grissom sighed.  
  
"Sara wouldn't purposely hurt you. Shower - tepid - now. Rinse this off. I'll be back in a minute."  
  
Grissom found a small carton of milk in the refrigerator with Sara's name on it. He figured it was penance. Grabbing his cell phone out of his pocket, he flipped it open and called Sara.  
  
"You trying to kill Greg, Sara?" he asked conversationally as he headed back to the locker room. He smiled grimly as he reached the shower stall. "Here Greg - this will neutralize the burning. Pour some in your hands and smooth it on. What Sara? That powder you gave Greg? He's having an allergic reaction to it - he's broken out in blisters. What were you thinking?"  
  
"I had no idea that would happen, Grissom. Seriously, I thought I was helping. Cath said baby-powder would lessen the itching."  
  
"Baby powder, Sara. Not Gold Bond Medicated with Menthol - extra strength! He probably already had a heat rash, and the menthol has just exacerbated everything."  
  
"I was just trying to help."  
  
"Well, stop trying to help. I almost had to send him home. Anyway, Greg's off of the underwear for right now. I think he's learned his lesson."  
  
"Tell him I'm sorry, Griss. Really, I am."  
  
"Well, hurry up and break Nick already, because I don't think I can take anymore of his skulking around here."  
  
"Sure. I'm sorry Grissom."  
  
"Tell her she owes me big time!" Greg hollered from the shower stall. "Thank God I didn't dump the stuff down my pants - I wouldn't be quite so forgiving!"  
  
Grissom smiled into the phone, "You heard that, Sara? Good. Talk to you later." Hanging up the phone, he stood silently outside the shower stall for a minute, before asking rather tentatively, "You feeling better, Greg?"  
  
"A little," Greg muttered. "I think I'm going to apply for hazard pay, though."  
  
The wry comment forced a sharp laugh from Grissom, "Hazard pay?"  
  
"Well, yeah. Between Sara trying to burn my skin off and you infecting me with foot fungus whenever the whim grabs you, I think I deserve it. Got anymore of that cortisone cream?"  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
Sara closed her phone and walked slowly over to Nick, noting how he eased his way down to snap a photo of a footprint.  
  
"Whatcha got there, Nicky?"  
  
Nicky looked up at her. "What? No nicknames? Are you sure you don't want to call me 'Kitty' or 'Bunny' or 'Hop-Along' or 'Vicky' or something? Are you sure? 'Cause I'm starting to get suspicious whenever you call me by my first name any more."  
  
"Okay, Dr. Frankenfurter. Calm down. Geez. What'd you-"  
  
"I've got a footprint. Okay?"  
  
"O-kay!" Sara crossed her arms and stared down at him. *Well, Grissom did say to break him.*  
  
"Sara - could you get me the plaster? I want to make a mold of this."  
  
"Go get it yourself, RuPaul. I'm dusting for prints."  
  
With a flip of her hair, Sara waltzed off to the door of the house pulling out the Red Creeper and smiling when she heard Nick curse her out under his breath.  
  
"What was that, Tinkerbell? Didn't quite catch that!" she turned to look at Nick over her shoulder, enjoying the sight of him rising gingerly to his feet and shaking his ass as he tried to dislodge the underwear. Nick turned to glare at her, but stopped when he noticed the shadow moving along the wall to her left.  
  
"Sara," his voice was tense, "could you come here for a second please? I have something I need to show you."  
  
"As appealing as that sounds," Sara started teasing, stopping only when she noticed Nick's tight expression. His eyes were locked over her shoulder. Suddenly nervous, she took a couple of steps towards him.  
  
Nick moved closer to her, lifting his maglight and shining it along the back alley when she was within arms reach of him. "Brass!" he hollered suddenly, "I think we got a visitor!"  
  
And that's when all hell broke loose. Sara was almost knocked off her feet as a man jumped out from the shadows and pushed by her. Before she could react, Nick was hot on his heels. Brass has come running in from a different direction, alerted by Nick's shout. The pursuit was on.  
  
Sara would have laughed at the absurdity of it if she wasn't worried about Nick. He was quite a bit ahead of the rest of them, gaining ground on the fleeing suspect. Sara hoped the man wasn't armed. Quickly regaining her equilibrium, she hustled past a puffing Brass just in time to see Nick tackle the man to the ground.  
  
"Don't move! Stay where you are!" She hollered as she ran up to Nick, drawing her gun. "Nice grab, Nicky!"  
  
"Thanks," Nick grunted.  
  
Brass came up behind them, quickly cuffing the suspect. "Way to hustle, Pollyanna!"  
  
"Yeah," Nick's mouth was tight, a thin sheen of sweat marring his forehead, as he slowly stood to his feet. "I think I garroted my nuts." He grimaced at Sara's stifled snort, "I can't take this anymore." Reaching into the side of his pants, he grabbed the thin leg strap digging into his hip and snapped it in half, before repeating the process on the other side. Shaking his head ruefully at Sara's large grin, he shimmied slightly and pulled the velour thong out of his pants. "I hope you didn't want to keep these, Sara."  
  
Sara laughed, "Oh. Brave boy - going 'Commando' in those tight jeans."  
  
"Couldn't be any worse than these," Nick muttered. "Too bad I couldn't get rid of the bra as easily."  
  
The young man handcuffed to the left of Brass shook his head, "Yo, yo! What type of crazy-assed uniforms they making you cops wear?"  
  
Nick actually growled at the man in response and shuffled back to the Tahoe.  
  
"What's wrong with him?" Brass asked as one of his deputies led the perpetrator away.  
  
Sara shrugged, than started to laugh at the remembrance of Nick running, legs almost as bowed as Grissom's, as he tried to avoid doing serious damage to himself during the chase.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Nick practically limped into the lab at the end of the night. Every step was a part of a strange cadence of raw sweaty flesh rubbing against raw sweaty flesh.  
  
The fact that he had nothing between himself and itchy tight jeans with exaggerated stitches that seemed to be branding themselves into the crevice of his butt did nothing to improve his humor.  
  
Sara walking behind him and noting the halting steps with fiendish glee didn't help him any, either.  
  
"Let's get these prints to the lab, Nick. Then you can sit down-or-whatever and have a little rest."  
  
Nick glared at her and hitched his way to the lab, determined to keep his outward show of discomfort at a minimum.  
  
"When this is all over with, Sara, I'm going to give you the biggest wedgie you've ever experienced."  
  
"I'd get you back."  
  
"Won't matter. I'm still going to do it."  
  
"I won't let you."  
  
"You won't see it coming."  
  
"I'll see it coming."  
  
"No you won't."  
  
"Yes I will."  
  
They were almost at the door to the Print Lab.  
  
"You will not."  
  
"I will too."  
  
"I'm going to sneak up on you and give you the wedgie of your nightmares, and you aren't going to even know what happened until it's all over with."  
  
"You won't even be able to touch me, so instead of talking nightmares, maybe you ought to be talking dreams."  
  
Nick walked in the door of the Print Lab and slammed it in Sara's face.  
  
"How did I manage to do that, then? Huh?" he hollered at her through the closed door.  
  
Sara merely laughed.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Sitting in the DNA lab, Greg saw Nick walking gingerly through the hallway and sympathized, to a point.  
  
But his chest was still burning a little from the menthol, and he was still mad about Nick getting him into this mess in the first place.  
  
Lifting up the green bottle of powder, Greg grinned wickedly as he left his lab and followed Nick into the breakroom.  
  
"Chafed, Nick?"  
  
"Sure am," the older man admitted, inching himself into a sitting position in the breakroom chair.  
  
"Well, Sara gave me this powder earlier and told me not to say anything about it to you, but I think it would be mean to keep it from my best friend." *Not exactly the truth, he used to be, but not any more. Not after he got me into this situation.*  
  
"That Sara is just mean," Nick grumbled, grabbing the bottle. *Menthol. That sounds soothing. My skin burns!* "Thanks, Greggo. You're a good friend!"  
  
"Just don't tell her, though."  
  
"Man, I'm not talking to Sara any more. Don't think I ever will again!"  
  
"Good for you, Nick!"  
  
Greg grinned evilly as Nick made his way down the hall towards the locker room, scratching the itchy places on his chest from the bra as he went.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Grissom sat in his office doing his crossword puzzle.  
  
"Daiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii! Greg! I'm gonna kill you!"  
  
Grissom lifted his head at the sound of Nicky yelling obscenities from the locker room.  
  
Standing calmly, he went to the break room and grabbed the carton of milk and walked down the hall mumbling, "Here we go again" under his breath.  
  
TBC __________________________  
  
AN: Zheidi: I feel I need to say a few words before I begin this new chapter. This is not, I repeat *NOT* a fic where romance is even remotely going to enter into the picture, save a little harmless flirting between Catherine, Sara, and their unfortunate victims. (Okay, and a little Cath and Warrick flirting, but they do it anyway. We can't stop them. They've taken on a life of their own.) There are many excellent fics on this site that cater to the romantic in all of us. This is just Mich's and my way of getting Greggo and Nicky in sexy panties. That's all. We're certifiable.  
  
Michmak: In case anyone is wondering, Gold-Bond Menthol Extra Strength can really burn when applied to the wrong places. I wouldn't recommend testing this theory. DO NOT EXPERIMENT AT HOME. You've been warned. 


	4. HOT CROSS BUNS

~*~*~*~ Part IV ~*~*~*~  
  
Nick shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It seemed as though every nerve ending in his body took up root and planted themselves in his butt. Thanks to Greg, his mild rash had turned into a runny gaping wound, and Grissom's oatmeal lotion did very little to relieve the discomfort.  
  
"Primum Non Nocere," he muttered under his breath as he found a parking place. "That Greg is going to pay big time. I'll have him flying the Unfriendly Skies for what he did to me."  
  
The parking place was in front of the grocery store he frequented. Nick recognized his rash as something he saw on his nephew a few months ago while visiting his family in Texas.  
  
Admitting that he, a grown man, could have diaper rash was more than humiliating, but given the fact that he received such a rash while wearing women's underpants made it unbearable.  
  
What he hoped to do was go in, pick up a tube of Desenex, buy a few other groceries, and hope that the clerk didn't notice that he, a single person, was buying a baby care product.  
  
He snuck over to the entrance of the correct aisle. The one he had avoided since he first knew it existed. The one that sold pampers and rattles and. . . *gulp*. . .TAMPONS!  
  
Nick took a deep breath at the opening of the aisle and steeled himself. It was four in the morning. Who would be here? And why would a pregnancy testing kit be next to baby wipes? Shouldn't they be next to condoms? Oh - never mind. They were there, too.  
  
"Sir, are you finding everything all right?" A young man at Nick's elbow asked.  
  
"Uh, yes," Nick answered, really laying on the southern accent, hoping it would make him seem guileless. "I'm just trying to find the diaper rash cream?" Who said that you couldn't stretch a word like 'Diaper' out into five syllables?  
  
"Oh - it's right down there. Do you know which kind your wife asked you for?"  
  
*Thank GOD he thinks I'm married!* "Uh - Desenex."  
  
"There are natural herbal ones."  
  
"Desenex. That's what kind we use." *And by 'we', I mean me and my butt cheeks.*  
  
"Well, it's right there. On special, too. Do you have your coupon?"  
  
*Hell, man! I don't want a friggin' coupon! I just want to get out of here!* "That's all right. I don't need a coupon. I just want the Desenex. Thank you."  
  
Nick walked away, hoping that the young man couldn't see his limp.  
  
*If I ever get my hands on that Greg - Justice Is Served!*  
  
Nick picked up a few other items - Cream of Wheat, butter and milk, and made his way to the cash register. At this hour, there was only one open, and he almost threw in the towel completely. The checkout clerk was none other than Michelle. A brown-haired brown-eyed beauty with a smile that could melt butter at sixty yards.  
  
"Hi, Nick," she said, her white teeth showing through pretty pink lipgloss.  
  
"Hi, Michelle." He kept the accent thick. Girls like Michelle went bonkers over it. Usually.  
  
"You just getting off work?"  
  
He smiled nervously. "Gotta love the graveyard shift."  
  
"Me too. I'm almost done here, just waiting for my replacement to come in."  
  
She scanned the cream of wheat while looking at him, oh please God, let her do the same with the Desenex!  
  
"Were you thinking about going out for breakfast?" *Look, if she turns you down, at least she could be too distracted to look at the cream.*  
  
"I was thinking about it-"  
  
They suddenly both jumped when a beeper sounded and then looked down at her hands. The box of diaper rash cream proved to be the culprit. Michelle turned it over a few times, trying to justify it's presence in Nick's basket.  
  
*Damn the Desenex company!*  
  
"I don't know why this beeped. . ." She looked up at him with wide searching eyes that clearly said, 'Didn't you just ask me out to breakfast, you married son of a bitch?'  
  
Nick started sweating. "It's for my neighbor lady." *You always were a terrible liar.* "She called me and asked me to pick some up for her. I guess her baby has a pretty bad rash, and she and her husband only have one car, and I guess he has it right now."  
  
Michelle raised an eyebrow.  
  
"I don't have kids or a wife. I swear."  
  
Michelle took in Nick's grocery list. A quart of milk, a small box of cereal, only one box of butter, a bottle of water. Definitely not the purchases of a man with family. She smiled. "It's all right. For some reason, the number isn't coming up on the box, but I can type it in. So, about breakfast."  
  
*Who is able to leap tall buildings in a single bound? Super Nicky!*  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Greg's own whimpering woke him up. Groaning, he gingerly rolled over onto his side and looked at his alarm clock. One hour until work. One more hour until he would once again star in his own personal version of 'Les Cages aux Faux'. Sighing grimly, he flipped on the reading lamp by his bed and gingerly peeled his sheets from his chest, grimacing as the cotton pulled his raw skin where it had adhered to the rash, and reached for the tube of cortisone cream Grissom had given him. He could not begin to imagine what torture device the girls would have for him tonight. It didn't bear thinking about. Just the thought of another thong made him wince and clench his butt cheeks in denial.  
  
He had held out the brief flickering hope earlier that morning that he would be able to forgo day three of this humiliation. Sara had felt so badly about the whole Gold Bond incident he thought maybe he would be let off the hook. She had come to find him in the lab, all contrite and apologetic as she explained seriously she had no idea the menthol would burn him. Seeing his opportunity, Greg had used his best Bambi eyes on her, wincing in exaggeration every time he moved, and basically playing up his agony to the hilt.  
  
Would have worked too - Sara was thisclose to agreeing that Greg had suffered enough when Nick's painful yelps had caught her attention. She had watched with narrowed eyes as Grissom had wandered down the hallway towards the locker room, face aggrieved, a carton of milk in his hands, before turning back to Greg. "You gave Nick the Gold Bond?" her voice had been saccharine sweet, and Greg knew - just knew - he had blown it.  
  
Shaking his head, he had sighed, "I couldn't help it. He's the one that got me into this mess in the first place!"  
  
"After all the grief you've just giving me about how much it hurt, and how you think the scarring will fade in time - and you turn around and give the stuff to Nick?" Sara shook her head in disbelief her brown eyes unable to comprehend such an unthinkable act. "You are evil, Greg! E-V-I-L - Evil! At least I didn't know what it would do to you."  
  
The two stood in silence for a few minutes, staring at each other and listening to Nick's muffled curses, and the soothing mumble of Grissom's voice floating down the hallway. Sara cocked an eyebrow at Greg; Greg cocked an eyebrow in return. It didn't help matters any when Grissom stuck his head in the lab a few moments later, blue eyes grim, as he informed them he had to run across the street to the convenience store.  
  
"Nick needs more milk," he had muttered, glaring at the two of them accusingly, "Seems he applied the Gold Bond liberally to the seat of his jeans!"  
  
Greg bowed his head in shame. "I was mad at him."  
  
Sara patted his shoulder. "It's all right, Greg. I forgive you."  
  
Greg hoped Nick would.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
The Dessenex was like paste. Nick felt like his butt cheeks had been glued together, and the feeling was not a comfortable one. Wincing, he slid out of his truck and made his way slowly into the lab, absolutely dreading what the girls had in store for him tonight.. He knew it was going to be bad when he saw Catherine, Sara and Warrick loitering at the entrance of the break room, grinning like idiots when they saw him limping down the hallway.  
  
"Nicky! You're here!" Catherine's voice rang out down the hallway, "And you're walking a little better then you did when you left this morning. Did you try the Sitz Bath with Epsom like I suggested?"  
  
Nick just grunted and hitched his way slowly past his supposed friends towards the coffee machine, trying to ignore Warrick's laughter.  
  
"Sitz bath? You mean one of those things you fill with tepid water, prop on the toilet, and rest your ass in? Oh man!"  
  
Nick glared at him, "Allow me to retain what little dignity I have left! Besides which, it's bad enough I had to buy -" he paused mid-sentence and turned red. "Uh - never mind."  
  
Turning his head slightly, he saw Greg sitting at the table, fingers nervously drumming the table. The younger man paled slightly at Nick's intense gaze, and smiled weakly, "Hey man, how's the rash?"  
  
"It's a piece of art. I call it Anatomy of a Lye," Nick responded grimly. "As soon as I feel up to it, I'm gonna kill you - death by mentholated Gold Bond."  
  
Greg smiled nervously. "Just satisfy your Blood Lust, Nick. I'm sorry. Really, I am."  
  
Pouring himself a coffee, Nick gulped it back without adding his normal copious amounts of cream and sugar, "So girls. Let's get this over with - what do you have planned for tonight?"  
  
Catherine and Sara just grinned at each other, "Well, we though we'd be nice and give you non-thong underwear, considering the - ah - rash you've apparently developed, Nicky."  
  
"You too, Greggo," Sara added, "No bustiers or bras for you tonight."  
  
Catherine reached into a bag that had been sitting just inside the break room door. "This is for you, Greg."  
  
Greg eyed the garment suspiciously, taking it from Catherine as if it was about to bite him. "What is this?"  
  
"It's a purple satin teddy," Sara cooed, "because purple is your color."  
  
"Cripes!" Greg muttered, inspecting the teddy more closely, "It snaps at the crotch!"  
  
"At least it's soft," Nick muttered at him, "No itchy lace! Do I get satin too?"  
  
"You sure do, Nicky," Catherine cooed, as she handed him the bag, "Satin and silk."  
  
Nick rolled his eyes at her flirtatious tone, "This I gotta see."  
  
Sara tried not to giggle as Nick reached into the bag and retrieved the first part of his outfit. The honest-to-God shock on his face was something else. "What the hell is this?"  
  
"Silk stockings, Nicky," she replied, "Hot pink, just for you. There's a matching Merry Widow in there for you to attach them too."  
  
"Merry Widow?"  
  
Warrick snorted, "C'mon! Mr. Ladies Man doesn't know what a Merry Widow is? You know - one of those sexy little bustier numbers with garters hanging off them? Can be worn with or without underwear?"  
  
"This one comes with satin panties," Catherine added, "Won't irritate your -"  
  
"Alright, already!" Nick scowled, "I get the picture!"  
  
He retrieved the Merry Widow from the bag, noting humorlessly that it did - indeed - match the stockings. Hot pink. The color reminded him of Pepto- Bismol - something he figured he was going to need a whole bottle of by the end of shift. Nick shuddered as he fingered the satin panties.  
  
"A Stalker and stockings in less than 12 months? This hasn't been my year. Thank God I opted for relaxed fit jeans tonight!"  
  
Greg let out a groan. "Well, I'm just glad we don't have the thongs again. They're real Organ Grinders."  
  
Sara smiled at him. "Tell me something, Greggo. Your ideal woman. Is she a tall blonde named Heidi, who enjoys wearing Lederhosen?"  
  
"As long as Lederhosen are leather pants, yes."  
  
Sara rolled her eyes. "Good luck finding her."  
  
"Thank you, Sara." He looked up from the teddy. "I appreciate that. Just for you, I'm going to find her."  
  
"Find her by Friday night," Catherine admonished. "Party at my house. Celebrating yours and Nick's liberation from female lingerie."  
  
Greg picked up his teddy and stalked off to the locker room, mumbling to himself about If These Walls Could Talk and Letting the Seller Beware before pushing underwear like this.  
  
Nick smiled. One more day. Just one more day.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Ecklie wandered into Grissom's office.  
  
"Hey, Ecklie. What are you still doing here?"  
  
"Well, Gil, some disturbing information came my way about your shift. I understand that Stokes and Sanders have been wearing women's underwear?"  
  
Grissom looked up with a half-smile on his face. "Well. . ."  
  
Nick went hitching by Grissom's office, securing his pants.  
  
"Nick? What are you doing?" Grissom asked.  
  
"I had to go find Catherine."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Nick sighed, looking at Ecklie. "I wasn't sure about something."  
  
"What's that, Stokes?" Ecklie asked.  
  
"None of your god-dammed business, Ecklie!"  
  
"Nick - Ecklie's just asking a question."  
  
Nick opened his pants to reveal his hot-pink panties, garters, and stockings. "I couldn't figure out how to attach the stockings."  
  
Both Grissom and Ecklie broke into peals of laughter.  
  
"You're just a sweet transvestite, aren't you, Stokes?" Ecklie asked.  
  
"Watch yourself, Ecklie!" Nick hissed.  
  
"Yeah, Conrad. He's a lumberjack, and he's okay."  
  
Ecklie couldn't help himself. "Gil! No! Don't say that!"  
  
Nick frowned as both men started singing the song.  
  
"I chop down trees I skip and jump, I like to press wild flowers I put on women's clothing and hang around in bars!"  
  
"Funny, guys. Really funny."  
  
"Nick - the way you've been limping around here from the thongs, I think we're going to sign you up for the Ministry of Silly Walks," Ecklie chortled.  
  
Grissom couldn't stop laughing. "Yeah. Mr. Gumby thinks you'll be a hit."  
  
"And now for something completely different," Ecklie snorted, pointing at Nick.  
  
"Nudge, nudge, wink, wink - say no more!" Both men were howling, and the uncontrollable laughter was drawing a crowd of gawking employees. Grissom and Ecklie, actually in a room together without arguing? Had the space/time continuum just gone Boom?  
  
The object of their mirth was staring daggers at them, his smile grim, "Are you both having a bonding moment over the fact that I'm in women's panties? You think this is funny?"  
  
"Nee!" said Grissom. Ecklie snorted back, nodding his head in agreement, "Nee!"  
  
Nick rolled his eyes, "If you two hold hands and start singing Kumbi- fucking-ya, I think I'll have to commit A Little Murder."  
  
Grissom and Ecklie tried to stop laughing as they both turned to look at Nick. The younger man was flushed red with embarrassment, his jaw tight. Ecklie turned back to Grissom and snickered, "We're dead, Grissom. Bleeding deceased. Ex-criminalists."  
  
The laughing started up again. Grissom could hardly choke out, "Bereft of life! Pushing up daisies! Joined the bleeding choir invisible!"  
  
Neither noticed Nick as he tried not to grin at their obvious mirth and turned on his heel, limping out of the office.  
  
"Do you have the commemorative edition of "The Holy Grail"?" Grissom asked Ecklie, when he was finally able to speak coherently again.  
  
Ecklie nodded. "I was first in line at our Best Buy when it came out. I wanted that movie on DVD since before the DVD was even invented!"  
  
"I started cultivating shrubberies because of that movie."  
  
"Can you believe - over a hundred hours of extras!"  
  
"Tell me about it! Live concerts! Interviews! It took me three days to watch it."  
  
"Drove my wife crazy," Ecklie admitted.  
  
"You ever seen 'The Life of Brian' on DVD?"  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
The snaps in Greg's teddy kept coming undone. But only one at a time.  
  
It was rather uncomfortable. One snap would go out of the four, and everything that it was holding back would come snaking out of the hole it left.  
  
Greg would then look around, make sure no one could see, then pinch the snap back together discreetly, hoping no one had seen him touching that area of his anatomy in public. So far, he hadn't snapped anything he shouldn't have, for which he was eternally grateful.  
  
How did women do this? He shifted to the left slightly, and felt another snap give. *Shit! This is getting ridiculous!* He adjusted his lab coat and quickly re-snapped, *I'm Pledging, Mr. Johnson, never to put you in a position of such discomfort ever again!* he muttered to himself. *At least the satin doesn't itch.*  
  
Warrick had dropped off some DNA samples earlier, and Greg was glad for the work. He found the normal routine calming, and because he had run the tests so many times, he knew them by rote - there wasn't a lot of thinking involved in the initial stages. Picking up the most recent addition of Stuff Magazine, he winced as he flipped through it. He felt sorry for the models in the 'Sexiest Lingerie for 2003' spread. He paused and gawked at a particularly uncomfortable looking full French lace body suit that ran in one seemingly seamless piece from toes to top. THAT looked damn itchy.  
  
Lost in thought, he didn't even realize that Nick had snuck up behind him in the lab until the older man clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed tightly, "Greggo."  
  
Greg yelped and jumped off his stool, the sounds of the snaps giving way in the crotch of his teddy sounding like cap guns. The pinching sensation quickly turned to a full-throttled crushing effect, and Greg almost doubled over in pain.  
  
"Jesus, Nick! Did you need to do that?" Greg gasped, his face pale and blotchy at the same time, "I just gave myself a wedgie."  
  
"Good," Nick replied, smirking, "and I hope it hurt!"  
  
Greg slowly straightened and looked around the lab nervously. From his vantage point, he saw absolutely no one in the hallway. If Nick was really serious about killing him, now was the perfect opportunity. He could tell by the sudden glint in Nick's eyes that the older CSI knew this too.  
  
"Anything you want to say to me, lab boy?" he drawled, "Any famous last words?"  
  
"Gentle, Gentle!" Greg pleaded, "You're not really gonna hurt me, are you? I've apologized! I'm really sorry!"  
  
"Do you know where I was this morning, Greggo?" Nick muttered, not bothering to even wait for a response, "I was in the Quik-E-Mart buying diaper rash ointment for myself! And it's your fault!"  
  
Greg shook his head frantically, "No! No it's not! It's Sara and Catherine's fault - they're the ones forcing us to wear this crap! Do you really think the Gold Bond would have bothered you or me if we weren't already rubbed raw by the shit they're making us wear?" Greg saw that Nick was weakening, and redoubled his efforts to apologize.  
  
"I wasn't rational yesterday when I gave you the powder! I was in pain! The thongs were so tight they cut of the circulation to my brain!"  
  
Nick snorted, "Cut off the circ to your brain, eh? Which one?"  
  
Greg smiled ruefully, "I really am sorry, Nick. I owe you."  
  
Nick looked at Greg intently, before letting his normal smile touch his face. Releasing the tight grip he had on Greg's shoulder, he replied, "That's all right, Greggo. I'll forgive you. You were under duress - and I'm partly responsible for your involvement in this whole mess. Besides which, I've got bigger fish to fry." Turning his head slightly, he indicated with a quick flick of his eyes Sara and Catherine as they walked by out in the hallway. "We have to get them back. You in?"  
  
Greg paled, "Haven't you learned your lesson? We can't beat them. I don't want to have to wear women's underwear ever again!"  
  
Nick just smiled, "Quit whining, Greggo. We have to come up with something fool-proof - something they can't beat us at. We're smart guys - we'll think of something."  
  
Greg just shook his head, "But -"   
  
Nick smirked, "You OWE me, Greg, remember?"  
  
"But -"  
  
"No buts, bro. The girls are going down," Nick's smile was gleeful. "They're at the top of my list! And remember Greggo, Revenge Is Best Served Cold. Catherine taught me that."  
  
___________________________________  
  
AN: Michmak - Okay - this story is winding down. We can only torture Nick and Greg so long, and there are only so many ass/crack jokes you can make before sliding completely over the bounds of good-taste. (hee) For those of you who live somewhere on Mars, the song referenced is Monty Python's "Lumberjack Song":  
  
Lumberjack:  
  
I'm a lumber jack  
  
and I'm okay  
  
I sleep all night  
  
and I work all day  
  
Lumberjack Chorus:  
  
He's a lumber jack  
  
and he's okay  
  
he sleeps all night  
  
and he works all day  
  
Lumberjack:  
  
I cut down trees  
  
I eat my lunch  
  
I go to the lavor'tree  
  
On Wednesday I go shoppin'  
  
and have butter scones for tea  
  
(Lumberjack chorus Repeats)  
  
(chorus)  
  
Lumberjack:  
  
I cut down trees  
  
I skip and jump  
  
I like to press wild flowers  
  
I put on women's clothing  
  
and hang around in bars  
  
(Lumberjack chorus repeats..."..bars???")  
  
(Chorus)  
  
Lumberjack:  
  
I cut down trees  
  
I wear high heels  
  
suspender and a bra  
  
I wish I'd been a girlie  
  
Just like my dear PaPa  
  
(Lumberjack chorus repeats... "..bra???")  
  
(chorus with a big finish!)  
  
Lastly, since we're already well into farce here test your CSI knowledge - How many show titles can you find in this chapter? 


	5. SOME LIKE IT HOT

  
~*~*~*~ Part IV ~*~*~*~

Greg regarded Nick for a few moments. "What can you do?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Stokes. What can you do? I'm not going to make another bet against Catherine if I'm not one hundred percent sure that I'm going to win. Pool?"

Nick shook his head. "Sara's a whiz at Pool."

"So am I."

"But I'm not, and I'm pretty sure that if it's a stick, Catherine knows her way around it."

"Fine. Hoops?"

Nick shook his head. "Catherine would never go for it."

"Trivial Pursuit?"

"Are you kidding? Sara? Trivial Pursuit? That's a game she and Grissom play when they want to relax. We'd be doomed."

Greg sighed. He was running out of competitive things he was good at. "Well, I was quite a Chess champion back in the day. Still play against Grissom sometimes."

"You ever win?"

"A few times. We've all beaten him a few times."

"I haven't."

Greg looked down. "Oh."

"Okay, Sanders. Answer me this: What are *you* good at?"

Greg shrugged. "I don't know. Everything I've mentioned so far. Scrabble is one of my favorites, but Catherine doesn't strike me as a Scrabble person. Clue would be good, if not cliché. There's only one other thing that I can think of."

"And what's that?"

~*~*~*~

"Name a singer who was gold in the '30's, '40's, '50's, 60's, '70's, '80's and '90's?"

Sara thought for a moment. "Hmm. . .I'd have to say Frank Sinatra."

Grissom set the card down. "Just put in your damn piece already."

Warrick laughed. "Are you two worried about Nick and Greg seeking revenge?"

Sara and Catherine exchanged a look. "We're kind of hoping for it," Catherine admitted. "We hate humiliating them any further, but they've both threatened to bring dates on Friday night, and it would be fun to get them again."

Grissom shook his head. "I can't let you guys force them into women's underwear again. It's all over the lab, and I'm really afraid it would affect their work performance. I'd hate to intervene, but at the same time, I'd have to."

"Don't worry," Sara told him. "We'd let them off the hook. It would just be. . .fun to get them again.  Especially if they bring dates."

Warrick got a strange look on his face. "So, Nick and Greg are bringing dates, eh?  What about you, Sara?

Are you going to bring Hank?"  Warrick tried not to grin when Sara jerked her eyes in his direction and tried to kill him with her glare.  

To her left, Catherine smirked at Warrick, blue eyes snapping with amusement, before she joined in, sotto voce, "Yeah, Sara – why don't you bring Hank?  I've been dying to meet this mystery man."

Beside Warrick, Grissom kept his expression carefully neutral.  Sara tilted her head to look at him, before she smiled slightly.  "Nope.  No Hank. Hank's got a date that night."

"Ree-aa-lly," Catherine drawled the word out, and winked at Warrick.  They had both noticed the quick darting glance Grissom had shot at Sara at this announcement, "A date.  Is this a date date, or just a friendly 'we just go to the movies' type thing?"

 "I think it's a date date.  But, you know – you could invite Mr. Building Inspector if you wanted too, Cath -" Sara smirked, "I've been dying to meet him."

Catherine's smile faltered only slightly when Warrick made a slight huffing sound in his throat.  To Catherine's ears, it sounded suspiciously like, "Touche!"

~*~*~*~

Grissom stuck his head in the lab, smiling when he saw Nick and Greg chatting.  Tucking the file he was carrying under his arm, he walked over to them, Warrick close on his heels. "So – Greg.  It's nice to see you still breathing."

Greg grinned, "If Nick was going to kill anyone, he'd go for the people at the top of his list, wouldn't you Nick?"

Nick shrugged, "The list changes daily. Please don't tell me we've got a case.  The word is out that the girls have me in a garter and stockings, and I don't think I could take the jokes."

Grissom half-grinned, "Don't worry, Nicky – I wouldn't do that to you.  The boys in blue would have just too much fun with the boy in pink.  I thought I would give you a friendly warning – the girls think you two are up to something, and they're prepared."

Greg blinked disingenuously at Grissom, "Who?  Us?"

"Can it Greg," Grissom replied, "You think I was born yesterday?"

Greg grinned, "You don't really want me to answer that – do you?"

Nick watched the exchange with interest, "Since when do you tease Grissom, Greg?"

"Since he told me how to neutralize the burning, Nick."

The quick response made Nick laugh, "Don't say that too loudly anywhere else - I know what you mean, but you might give other people the wrong idea."  Both Greg and Grissom turned to glare at Nick, but he just smiled his big shit-eating grin at them.  Behind Grissom, Warrick smirked and rolled his eyes. 

"We thought we would give you a heads up," Warrick inserted,  " We want you to be prepared.  And if you're looking for something to challenge them at, I would suggest Monopoly.  Catherine sucks at Monopoly, and I doubt Sara's much better."

Greg looked at the two older men in shock, "Monopoly?  How can any one suck at Monopoly?"

Warrick shrugged, "Well – you know Cath and how much she loves to shop – she just buys everything early on, overextends herself, and goes out of the game in a blazing flame of bankruptcy."

"And Sara's much too impatient to put any thought behind the game," Grissom added.  "It's too long and monotonous for her."

"And you're telling us this, why?" Nick grinned.

"You guys have to regain dignity somehow!  C'mon – three days in women's lingerie?  You need to strike a blow for men everywhere!"  Warrick stated, "Just don't tell the girls Griss and I are involved in this in any way.  They'd kill us!"

Nick raised his eyebrow. "Oh? Wow, that's kind of you. Seriously, what's up your sleeve?"

"We're innocent, Nicky my boy," Grissom said, using his pet-name for Nick as a way to put the younger man off guard. It had been a few years since he looked at Nick as a Green Bean, but this was a situation that required finesse. "Don't you trust me?"

"Not when you make that face. That's the face you gave Catherine the day you wanted her to interview all those people after the guy died on the plane. It means you want us to do something that you don't want to do yourself. What is it?"

Grissom and Warrick exchanged a look. 

"I knew it," Greg moaned. "They're up to something!"

"Whoa, whoa there, Tiger," Warrick said, holding his hands in front of him to proclaim innocence. "Look, Grissom and I. . ." he looked out the door to make sure no one was around, then closed it, just to be sure. "The girls are off on a case, but they have moles everywhere. Especially Archie." Warrick checked out the window to the DNA lab one last time before continuing. "As I was saying, Grissom and I thought up a win-win situation. You two can have your revenge, and we'll get what we want."  
  


Greg continued to look wary. "And what is that, exactly?"

~*~*~*~

Greg walked up to the doorway of his favorite sandwich shop. It was known to everyone as simply, "The Deli", though the name of the place was "The Deli Llama." 

It was no secret that the girl who worked the night shift-a tall blonde girl named Heidi was Greg's favorite waitress anywhere, hands down. He developed a crush on her at day one, over two years ago, but had never had the courage to ask her out. Warrick commented once that he didn't know if it was her green eyes, her leather pants, or the way she flirted that was more attractive. Greg didn't care. He just knew that she was beautiful. 

"Hi," he squeaked out.

"Hi, Greg," Heidi answered, a large smile covering her face. "It's been over a week since I've seen you. I was beginning to wonder if you were buying your sandwiches elsewhere."

Greg swallowed hard. "No. . .No, you're the only girl I go to for sandwiches."  
  


She smiled brightly. "Good to hear. The usual, or can I finally talk you into vegetarian cuisine?"  
  


"The usual is fine."

"Your boss is sitting in the corner. Are you going to join him? If you want, you can go sit down, and I'll bring it to you."

Greg contemplated this, then made his way over to Grissom's table.

"What are you doing here?"

Grissom looked up. "Trying to get some work done without interruption."

"Oh."

"No-sit down, Greg. You don't bother me."

Greg sat uneasily on the chair, watching as Heidi made his sandwich.

"She's cute."

Greg looked up at Grissom. "Huh?"

"Heidi. She's cute."

"Yeah."

"You like her."

"Yeah."

"Are you going to ask her out?"

"Uh. . ."

"Greg, you like her. Ask her out." If he could just get Greg to ask a date to Catherine's party, his plan would be complete.

"Here's your roast beef on white with no lettuce, tomatoes, or anything even remotely resembling a vegetable," Heidi said cheerfully, setting Greg's plate in front of him. "I threw in a few french-fries to make myself feel better, and a pickle, thought I know you won't eat it. You should take lessons from your boss. The Prophet Sub every time."

"Lettuce, tomato, cheese, onion, peppers and a vinaigrette? I don't think so. I'll just take my meat sandwich, thank you. Did you put extra mayonnaise?"

"No. If you want to die of a heart attack before you're thirty, I'm not going to drive the nails into your coffin. You're too cute to go that young."

Greg smiled up at the green-eyed beauty and her sarcastic wit with a goofy grin on his face. 

"No braids again, Heidi?" Grissom asked, trying to break up a bit of the sexual tension. 

Heidi laughed. "The first time I met Gil, he looked at my nametag and said, 'Heidi? How can your name be Heidi if you don't have any braids?'"

"I just don't think you could be a true Heidi if you don't have braids."

She smiled and put her arm around his shoulder. "Well, I'll tell you what. I used to have braids when I was young. It's been about fifteen years, but I used to wear braids every day."

"That allays all my fears," Grissom said.

Greg had been fascinated by this entire conversation. His boss? Talking like he knows this girl? *His* girl? Heidi? He suddenly felt a swift kick on his ankle, and sat up to attention, his eyes questioning Grissom. Grissom just cocked his head at the girl and winked. Greg shook his head violently.

"What's going on?"

"I, uh. . ." Greg didn't know how to do this. Many men had asked Heidi out. Almost all of them had failed. "This Saturday?"

"Yes?"

Greg felt another kick at his ankle. *Ow!* "Uh, do you want to come to a party?"

"Sure. What time?"

Greg couldn't believe she had said yes. "Uh. . .about seven? In the evening?"

"Okay. Let me get you my number, hold on." Heidi disappeared behind the counter, giving Grissom enough time to raise his eyebrows at the younger man without being obvious. Greg just grinned in response. "Here's my cell number, and that's my address. Almost across the street."

~*~*~*~

"One down, one to go," Grissom remarked drolly when Warrick walked into his office.  The younger CSI grinned at him.

"Which one?"

"Greg.  He's bringing Heidi to Catherine's party."

"Heidi?" Warrick whistled, "You mean the Valkyrie from the Deli?"

Grissom half smiled, "The one and only.  You think Nick will bring Michelle?"

"Only if we promise him there is no way in hell she'll ever find out about the women's underwear.  Seems he bought some Desenex from her this morning, and told her it was for the neighbor's kid."

Grissom raised an eyebrow, a slightly confused look on his face, "Desenex?"

Warrick smirked.  "Desenex.  Diaper rash cream.  Apparently, it works well."

The two men chuckled softly, before Grissom sighed, "Poor Nick.  He is always getting himself into these things.  So – we'll tell him we'll make sure it doesn't come up?"

Warrick nodded, "And then we'll make sure that Sara slips up.  Get Nick going so that the 'challenge' becomes personal.  Of course, we'll have to play partners – you can go with Sara – me with Cath -"

"And we can make sure they lose."  Grissom's eyes glinted, and Warrick grinned at him.

"You are having way too much fun, Griss.  I didn't know you could be so devious."

"I want to see Sara in that Halloween get up with the lace-up leather vest again," Grissom replied, "and this is the best way to make sure that happens.  Besides which, Sara is always telling me I need to loosen up."

Warrick shook his head, "I think Sara's created a monster."

~*~*~*~

"You swear that she'll never find out about the garters?  Or the Desenex?  You promise me, right Warrick?"

"I swear it, Nick.  No one will say anything to her – I've already spoken to Cath and Sara, and you know Griss – he never talks to anyone."

Nick still looked concerned, "Sara – though…you know what she's like.  She'll spill – she likes to gloat."

Warrick sighed, *C'mon Rick, make this convincing – toss out the bait*, "She wouldn't humiliate you like that in front of someone you're trying to impress, Nick.  Besides which, you can always blackmail her."

"Blackmail?  How?"  Nick still looked dubious, but Warrick could see he was intrigued.  Slowly but surely, he was reeling Nick in.  He grinned.

"You can bring up the fact that she's seeing her boss."

Nick looked blankly at Warrick, before his jaw dropped, "Huh?  Sara and Grissom?  You mean they've actually moved past this whole 'geek-flirt' thing they have going on to an actual relationship?  Outside the office?"

Warrick nodded, *No, but after you blurt out she's in love with Grissom, they will* "Yeah.  But it's really hush-hush right now – no one is supposed to know.  I only found out by accident – so if she says anything to you about the lingerie, you can out her."

Nick grinned.  "Blackmail.  I kinda like it."

*Hook, line and sinker.* "So, you gonna ask Michelle to come to Cath's party?  Greg is bringing Heidi."

"You there with anyone?"

 "Nope.  No one I'm interested in right now," Warrick replied.

*Liar!*  "What about Cath?"

 "I don't think she's bringing anyone either."  

Nick laughed,  "Yeah, right, Rico Suave.  So – you're telling me if I don't bring a date I'll be the odd man out?"

Warrick simply shrugged and smiled, "Think what you want, dude.  Just bring a date."

TBC

___________________________________________

AN, Zheidi: Mich and I decided that we're not even going to pretend like Greg and Nick's dates are original characters. I mean, we all know what O/C means when we start reading a fanfic, right? I even looked it up on the ff dictionary. It said: **O/C-see Mary Sue. So, I looked up Mary Sue. It said: ****Mary Sue-a term in fanfiction meaning to insert yourself as an original character.**

Well, needless to say, it made us laugh. We figured, everyone out there knows that Mich is in love with Nicky, and if you haven't figured it out yet, I'm in love with Greg. Why pretend? Why make up a name and change the eye color when you know it's going to be you? So-in short-I give you our original characters. Michelle and Heidi. Which is actually kind of strange, since my middle name is Michelle.

Mich:  I'd like to say my middle name is Heidi, and really freak everyone out, but that would be lying.  So I won't.  In case you haven't gathered, Heidi and I are setting you all up for a sequel.


	6. NIGHT OF THE REVENGE

Epilogue: NIGHT OF THE REVENGE

Nick arrived at Catherine's house with Michelle. He had never been quite so happy. His rash was all but gone, he was back in his boxers, and he had the most beautiful girl in Las Vegas on his arm.

"Let me get this straight," he heard Sara say. "Your name is Heidi, and you have on leather pants?"

"Yeah. Greg asked me to wear them for you. I didn't know he was into that kind of kink, but it sounded interesting to me."

Nick smirked. Heidi could sure tell a joke. 

She _was joking, right?_

Sara walked away from the chip bowl, looking dumbfounded as Greg wrapped his arms around Heidi's waist. 

"Sara doesn't know which way is up right now, baby."

Heidi just laughed. "Sorry about that, but the girl is _hot! And it's fun to yank her chain."_

Greg just shook his head. "Look, it's Nick. Do you know what Sara and Catherine did to us?"

Heidi laughed. "Yeah. Word gets around Deli Llama."

Michelle looked confused. "Word? About what? What happened, Nicky?''

Nick rubbed the back of his head uncomfortably. "Nothing worth talking about, Mich. Let's just say that tonight is payback night."

Michelle raised an eyebrow. "You're Heidi, right?"

  
"Yup."

"What's Nicky not telling me?"

"If Nick doesn't tell you, then I'd better not say. He tips well."

"Thank you, Heidi."

Michelle looked a little frustrated, but Sara, who had been listening in on the conversation from behind the wall, came out and grabbed Michelle's arm. "Let me tell you all about it."

  
Heidi followed the other two women into the living room. "This is going to be funny," she said.

Greg and Nick stared at each other. "What did Heidi think about it?"

"Heidi's a free-spirit."

"What will Michelle think?"

Laughter permeating from the other room let them know _exactly what Michelle thought. _

"No wonder he bought the—"

"Michelle!"

"Desenex."

"What?!" six surprised voices asked as Nick and Greg joined the other couples and their dates in the other room. 

Grissom regarded Nick with a raised eyebrow, then gave Greg a brief accusatory stare. 

"Listen, girls. . ."

Heidi cut Nick off with a raise of her hand. "It's okay, I think that most of the people in this room have worn a thong at some point. Counting you and Greggy, over half, I think."

Catherine just laughed and shook her head. "Yeah, but you never put Gold Bond Extra Medicated powder on it."

When it was explained how that came about, Heidi resisted the urge to punch Greg hard in the arm. It's an unfeminine thing to do, and guys really hate it – as her brothers so often told her. 

"You should have seen the look on his face when he had to chase after a fleeing suspect the other day.  We had him in a red velvet thong – the look on his face!"  Sara was howling, "You should have seen his legs when he ran – he was like this -" she bowed her legs and waddled forwards, demonstrating, "It was like watching a duck on speed!"

Nick glared at Warrick accusingly before turning the full force of his gaze on Sara, "I caught the guy!" he protested.

"Yeah – you did.  And then you snapped the thong at either leg hole and pulled it out of the back of your pants."  Sara grinned broadly and winked at Michelle, "You should see this boy shimmy.  Cath and I should have made you wear pasties instead of the matching bra!  Actually, he's almost the same shade of red right now as the thong was!"

"Yuck it up, Sidle," Nick smiled at her wickedly.  "I might have worn women's underpants, but at least I don't have a crush on Grissom." 

Sara turned red and stared at Grissom. "I. . ."

Grissom turned an equal hue of red. "Uh. . ."

Catherine, Heidi and Michelle all turned to look at Nick, expressions amused and regretful.  Cath shook her head at him, smiling, "Nicky, Nicky, Nicky – you realize what you just did?"

Nick smirked, "Yeah.  I just outed the worst kept secret in the lab.  Payback's a bitch, ain't it Sidle?"

Sara was gaping at him, eyes flashing angrily, "You don't know payback, milk-boy.  I was gonna take it easy on you tonight - but now?  All bets are off!"

"Really.  There's no way in hell you could win two bets in a row.  The first time you were lucky – if Catherine hadn't been your partner it would have been you in thongs and push up bras all week.  You're not a drinker, Sara."

"So – what?  You're implying I'm a lush?"  Catherine interrupted.  Standing immediately behind her, Warrick caught Grissom's eyes and grinned.  *Trust Nick to get them going.*  

Grissom was too busy staring at Sara to pay much attention to Warrick.  *Sara?  Had a crush on him?*

"I didn't say that, Cath," Nick protested, suddenly nervous.  Michelle grinned when she realized his accent got stronger when he was flustered, "But you gotta admit, you are more experienced -"

"Nick!" Greg hissed, "Ix-nay on the alking-tay!"

Heidi grinned, "Smart man.  You always talk before you think, Texas?"

Sara muttered, "Don't flatter him. He doesn't think."

The blush that had receded from Nick's face was back with a vengeance, "You know that giant wedgie I warned you about earlier, Sidle – imagine it tripled."

"I'm _scared, Nicky," Sara snorted._

"You should be," Nick muttered back.

"Put your money where your mouth is.  I don't think you and Greg have been humiliated enough – you obviously didn't learn anything!"

"Fine.  Since the underwear thing's been done – losers have to wear an outfit of the winner's choice at work two days in a row for the entire shift.  I bet you couldn't even walk in stiletto heels, Sara."

"I could walk in them better than you, Nick," Sara retorted.  "I can see you in a day-glo mesh t-shirt now!"

Beside Nick, Michelle grinned, "If you're going to make him wear mesh, put him in leather shorts as well.  Then make him come visit me at work."

Heidi started laughing, "And Greg.  Greg has to be in mesh too!  A mesh muscle shirt.  I have a pair of black leather lederhosen that would probably fit him and -" She stopped talking and looked at Michelle in confusion when everyone else in the room began to laugh.  

Greg looked like he was going to choke, he was shaking so hard.  "Lederhosen…" he finally managed to gasp out at her confused look, "…you're really perfect, you know that Heidi?"

* * * * *

"Monopoly?"  Sara griped, "How low have we sunk?"

"It's a fair game.  A little more chance involved – besides which, this way we get to play teams," Grissom murmured consolingly, as he set up the board and started doling out the money.

"That may or may not be a good thing," Michelle inserted, winking saucily at Nick as she stole a sip of beer out of the can at his side, "I'm thinking Nick in leather shorts may just be worth throwing the game for."

Nick grinned back at her,  "Maybe for you, that can be arranged without letting Sara win."

"Quit yer flirting, Nick, and put on your game face!" Greg demanded.  "You know you don't own leather shorts."

"Yeah," Sara inserted, "You should ask him to model the hot pink garter for you instead, Mich."

"So – just to establish – it's Nick/Michelle and Greg/Heidi are playing against Sara/Grissom and Cath and I, right?  And the team with the highest combined cash and property values when the game is over wins?"

"That's right, Warr," Catherine smiled.  "But I still don't think it's fair that if we lose only Sara and I have to dress up."

"Of course it's fair!" Grissom responded, "Heidi has to wear her waitress uniform and Michelle works at a grocery store – they won't be dressing up if Nick and Greg lose."

Catherine sighed, "Fine.  Just – something feels fishy about this whole thing.  I'm not sure it's such a good idea."

"Chicken, Cath?" Greg chortled, "Afraid of us?"

Sara looked at Catherine and grinned reassuringly, "I'm an excellent Monopoly player, Cath.  There's no way we can loose this.  I mean, look who were up against! No offence, Heidi and Michelle."

Heidi smiled back, "None taken." *You're _so going down!*_

"I want us to be the car," Greg whispered as Grissom set up the board on the floor and counted out the money.

"No, you want to be in the backseat of the car."

"Fair enough."

Grissom cleared his throat. "Kids? Roll the dice to see who goes first."

Heidi blushed a little and rolled a die. It landed on six. She smiled and grabbed the car. Nick frowned.

"I wanted the car."

Michelle picked up the bucking bronco. "This is a little more your speed, cowboy."

Nick gulped at the hand on his thigh. 

"Sara and I are going to be the shoe."

"I want the dog," Sara told him.

"Well, I want the shoe."

Sara fixed him with a gaze. 

Grissom sighed laboriously. "Fine. Dog. Whatever."

"She's got you whipped already, man," Warrick laughed. "She's gonna have you under her cute little thumb!"

Grissom could think of many worse places to be than under Sara's 'cute little thumb', but he decided to keep that thought to himself and handed Sara the dog. "Roll the dice, Sara."

Sara rolled a three. Greg let out a small laugh. Sara glared at him.

"So, Heidi and Greg go first, then Catherine and Warrick, then Michelle and Nick, then Sara and me." Grissom looked at Sara and blushed slightly. 'Sara and me' suddenly took on a whole new meaning.

Heidi rolled a five and moved to the Reading Railroad. "Should we buy it?" she whispered to Greg.

"No," he whispered back so no one could hear him. "You can't build on it, and you'll never get all four. Just sit tight."

Heidi had a feeling that she'd be sitting all night and into the next day. Monopoly was the longest board game ever invented, and she wondered if she'd endure. 

Of course, Greg's chest was warm against her back, and his arms were crossed around her, his legs flanking her hips. She smiled and leaned against him, confident that he could support her weight. 

As they kissed lightly, Grissom watched them in wonder and slight jealousy. 

How could he have talked Greg into something like this when he was afraid to enter into it himself? He looked over at Sara, who was watching Nick roll, and touched her back lightly, allowing his fingers to graze her backbone. She looked at him with large searching brown eyes, and he smiled. 

"Our turn."

Sara nodded and rolled the dice, fully aware that Grissom's hand was still on her back.

* * * * *

"Free parking!" Nick crowed – "First time it's been hit all night!  Show me the money baby!"

Beside him, Michelle laughed and loudly started counting – "Why – Sara – isn't this the fine you had to pay?  And Catherine – this must be one of the many fines you had to pay.  You know what – there's over $2500 here!"

Sara scowled, "Yeah. Yeah.  Just give me the dice already!"  Grabbing them, she shook her wrist violently before dropping them in the box.  "Six." Scanning the board, she groaned, "Shit.  Go to jail…go directly to jail…"

Heidi clucked her tongue, "That's what – three times now you'll have to play the back half of the board without passing go and collecting your $200.  What a shame." Greg ran his hands over her back and they chortled together.

Grissom half-smiled when Sara snorted inelegantly and moved their game piece into jail, "If the LVPD could see us now," he teased.

"I don't think it's funny," Sara muttered.  "We're never gonna make it to go, and I'm getting sick of paying rent." 

Greg grinned, "It's just gonna get worse, Sara.  Nick – Michelle – I'll give you Illinois and Connecticut for Park Place.  Heidi and I want to build some homes."

Nick grinned and tossed Park Place to Heidi.  "Good deal.  Especially when Catherine and Warrick are gonna hit that corner soon.  You have enough money to pay if you land on Boardwalk, Cath?"

"Shut up, Nicky!" Catherine retorted, before sighing and turning to Warrick.  "We have to get past that corner without landing on any properties, or else we're toast.  We've only got $20 left – and no more properties except Baltic to mortgage."

Warrick sighed, "Proper fiscal planning is a necessity in a game like Monopoly, Cath.  Seriously."

Catherine shrugged, "So I'll know for next time.  You could have reigned me in you know."

Greg tossed the dice as Heidi carefully placed several houses on their properties. "Card me!" he demanded, moving the car to Community Chest.  Heidi grinned, and grabbed a green card.  "You have just won $10 in a beauty contest."

Greg grinned and pretended to fluff his hair, "Throw it in the kitty, baby.  You realize, Cath – if you roll a 6 or an 8, your bankrupt."

Catherine rolled her eyes and palmed the dice.  Turning to Warrick, she admonished, "Blow on them for luck."

Warrick grinned, "Superstitious much?" 

"I'll try anything once," Catherine responded, flirtatiously.  Shaking her wrists, she hollered, "No Whammies!  No Whammies!  Shit.  Eight.  We're out."  Tossing her $20 at a chortling Greg, she rose to her feet and wiped her hands across her butt.  "C'mon Warrick – make me a martini."

"That's it?' Sara griped. "That's all you have to say? 'Make me a martini?'  No, 'Gee, Sara – sorry we're bankrupt?  Sorry we're gonna lose the bet to Frick and Frack here?  Sorry you're going to be humiliated?'"

Catherine tossed her head and grinned at Sara, "They could never make me wear anything worse than some of the outfits I had to squeeze into in the past.  Besides, Grissom said no more underwear, so you know we'll be reasonably covered up.  Don't be a sore loser, Sara."

Sara snorted and turned to glare at Nick, "Are you going to take your turn, or are you just going to sit there and gloat all night?"

"I sorta like the gloating," Nick retorted.  "Listen, Sara.  You can't win.  Just concede."

Sara shot him an incredulous look, before turning to Grissom.  "He thinks we should quit!  Can you believe it?"

Grissom shrugged, "We've got $105 dollars left, we're in jail, and we have a myriad of properties to get through just to hit go.  I don't think it's such a bad idea.  It's getting late anyway."

Sara couldn't believe what she was hearing. Grissom? Give up? Without at least a bit of a fight? Not even the tiniest glimmer that he'd try and keep her from wearing skimpy outfits that *Greg* would be choosing for her? And the instigators of all this - Nick and Greg - were now cozying up with two girls who looked as though they _enjoyed wearing thongs, so, in the end, they wouldn't have learned anything at all!_

What was all of this for, anyway? What was she trying to do? In attempting to bring the boys some enlightenment on how to not make women sex objects, she herself would become that sex object by conceding. 

And here was Grissom, the man she had to admit she had a crush on, looking sanguine about the entire thing. It was almost like he _wanted her to lose. . ._

"Fine.  We concede."  Sara didn't sound too happy about it.  "But I swear to God, Nicky – you better think long and hard about what you're going to make me wear.  I can do a lot of damage with a thin little stiletto."

Nick grinned back, "Not if you're wearing a micro-mini – you'll be too scared to try to kick me."

"Wanna bet?" Sara retorted.  Nick shot an amused glance at her and Grissom and noticed the older man contemplating her legs. *Probably anticipating the micro-mini* he thought.

Throwing an arm around Michelle's shoulders, he chortled happily, "Life is good.  No more women's underwear, a night off, and two days of Sara-humiliation to anticipate and plan.  I think you're my lucky charm, Mich."

Michelle just shook her head, "Not so lucky for me, though.  I really was looking forward to seeing you in leather.  I don't suppose you have a pair of chaps back at your place?"

Nick just smiled.

* * * * *

Sara walked out of Catherine's house in a slight huff, though still baffled as to how she could have lost a game of Monopoly when she was playing with Grissom. 

"Sara?" he said. "I'll drive you home."

Sara nodded and got into his Tahoe.

"If you want, I'll stop by my place and get 'Applied Psychodynamics in Forensic Science' for you."

Sara nodded. "Sure. Sounds good."

  
~*~*~*~

Nick walked Michelle to his car and waved at Greg and Heidi as they climbed into Greg's Jeep. 

"Did you have a fun evening?" Nick asked sweetly as he got into the drivers' side.

Michelle smiled back at him. "Evening isn't over with yet, cowboy."

Nick drew in a deep breath. "Yippy-yi-yo-ki-yay!"

~*~*~*~

At a stop light, Greg looked over at Heidi. "Do you really have lederhosen that will fit me?"

"We'll have to go to my place and find out."

~*~*~*~

Warrick emptied the last few drops of a spent bottle of wine into his glass and threw the empty bottle away. 

Catherine slinked over to his side and rested her head against his shoulder. 

"If you wanted to see me in skimpy clothes, you could have just told me," she whispered.

Warrick put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. 

"I don't know what you're talking about, hun."

"I'm talking about the fact that you didn't have to go to this elaborate ruse of throwing a Monopoly game just to get me into a G-String."

He rested his chin on her head, thankful that their bodies fit together so well. "What about in order to get Grissom and Sara together? Is it worth that?"

"I guess."

The End…or is it…..

****evil laughter, as Mich and Heidi plan the sequel****

_______________________________________________________

Author's Note:  We both just wanted to say this has been a blast to write!  We have formed our own little mutual admiration society –Heidi's the overlord, and I'm her wacky court Jester with a ukulele and a funny hat with bells on it.  

So the story was silly.  So it's unlikely ever to happen in real life or on TV (you know what we mean) – but the thought of Nick and Greg in ladies underwear really made us laugh.  Look for the sequel early in the New Year – and stay tuned….


End file.
